Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Bittersweet Therapy

You, the last person I spoke to before I went to sleep,
the first thing I thought about when I woke up.
You, the person I wanted to share all of my news with,
my shelter, my consoler my trusted council.

But, You, tore pieces from me, and left, and I remained...
a tattered mess, a sightless sight of unrest.
a pile of cotton, a mangled toy, you left...
but you insisted you hadn't.

and in the end I suppose I left,
I suppose I ripped out my own useless appendix,
shredded it for bedding and span my wheel.

The truth is, I think you know the truth,
that an omission is a lie,
so you said goodbye.

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